Along the trampled path, occasional Sil held out strings of fish, stringy rootlike vegetables, a gauzy plant like a haze of wire. He realized these were for sale, but of course, the humans had nothing like Sil cash. Passing these hawkers, making poor imitations of the Sil no no no eye-gestures, they went by. Here and there a Sil stepped forward, lowered its head, and held goods up, waving them toward the humans—an offering. This struck Irma as an eye-widening surprise. Cliff knew enough to take some food, with eye-moves of thanks, and then wondered how to cook the food that began accumulating. All this occurred silently, for the Sil seemed to relish a gentle, still presence. It was usually hard to get them to talk at all, and when they did, they were terse.

Across the plain came small, darting vehicles sheathed in shiny silver metal. Some moved toward the humans, though most went their own way. A knot of about a dozen Sil cars eased up in the purring machines and shut them down. With proper greetings they got out to address Quert. They had a conversation taking at least twenty minutes.

That was long enough for the humans to sit near the cars and find out which of the gift foods they could eat raw. “Hand meal” the Sil called this. Sil talked while they ate. When Irma asked about that, Quert had consulted an electronic aid he sometimes used to translate, and said, “Sportive verse.” This apparently meant creating poetry, a ritual perhaps parallel to humans drinking alcohol and singing together.

They were hungry. There was a pleasant nutty spiral fruit that left a peppery taste. They ate it all and had moved on to a nearly rhomboid-shaped bittersweet fruit. Quert and three other Sil came over to the humans, doing the head-moves and eye-signals that always came before an important discussion. Cliff reflected on how much they had learned about Sil culture by simply watching their social cadences. Humans talked all the time, Quert had noted with genuine wonder, as though that were uncommon on the Bowl.

Quert said, “They gift movers to us.”

“We are gift happy,” Irma said, smiling and nodding. She was better at ferreting out the meanings of the clipped Sil sentences and echoing their manner. She kept track of the myriad eye- and head-gestures and tried to imitate them, though not always with much success. There had been some amusing errors, such as when she had inadvertently asked Quert if sex was part of their diet, or where the beds were to be, and then walked into the rather primitive male toilets. She could not then tell male from female Sil and had to be told, with furious elbow signals.

The small, squat vehicles were actually simple to drive. They used hands and feet, just as Earthside cars did, and ran on an auto-gear system with adjustable constraints, mostly apparently magnetic. Indeed, its propulsion seemed magnetic, but it never rose more than a meter above the broad plain. Everything here, even the homes, seemed powered by electromagnetic induction, through the Bowl’s substructure. There were solar collectors everywhere, befitting a land where the sun always shone, and the self-shaping buildings were driven that way, too. Cliff could tell by the occasional tingling of electrical discharge that ran over his skin when he stood near the walls, as they surged up and formed elegant cusps and arches.

Quert showed Cliff how to drive the magcar, seeming to insist it was a guest’s privilege. That let him take the little thing out onto the broad plain, Quert in the copilot seat, and Irma and Aybe in the rather cramped rear seats. Their backpacks and gear went in racks on the roof, secured by a curious self-wrapping lattice that figured out its own way to secure the arrangement, tripped by a tiny tapping from Quert.

They headed on toward distant mountains, cloud-shrouded and mysterious. Quert then went into comm mode, using the inbuilt dash system to get in touch with other Sil, using a system Quert said the Folk could not intercept. Quert apparently had embedded acoustic receivers, for it peered ahead intently and subvocalized, face giving nothing away. Irma sat in the back, and the others were in another car, following close on the right side. Cliff took the odd magcar up to its highest speed as other car traffic thinned out. They were moving away from the Sil concentrations, but Cliff had no idea of their destination.

He did not notice nearby cars or anyone following until abruptly one drew up alongside them. It deftly came in and blocked them from the other human car. The two Sil inside did not look at him, but they matched exactly his velocity. Then the magcar started coming in closer. He thought nothing of it until they were only a car-length away. He slowed. They slowed. He sped up. So did they. Another magcar came in from his left, moving fast. Its driver also didn’t even seem to notice the three cars moving now together. They all peered straight ahead. Maybe they’re a guard party? he wondered.

Closer, closer … Cliff had time to say, “Quert—Quert?” interrupting the alien’s concentration, its eyes slowly coming fully open, as if it had been in a trance. “I think something’s—”

A third car came over fast from the left, slightly ahead. It slewed hard and set itself up exactly in front of their car.

Irma said, “Are these—?”

The lead car slowed, its big tail signal sliding in ruby red pulses across the back. Cliff had to step on the mag brakes, and the car hummed loudly. He tried to maneuver to the left, then right, but there was no room now, and then the car ahead braked harder.

Cliff slammed on the brakes. The three that had boxed him in hit theirs a few seconds later. The brake howl was a high skkkrrreeeee, all of them losing speed as fast as they could. The cars were identical, so they hardly separated at all as the howling deceleration threw Cliff forward. They all wore odd net belts that stopped Cliff from being heaved onto the windshield. His few seconds’ lead in decelerating meant he was now about ten meters behind them all as they slid to a stop, throwing gray dust and the humming loud and shrill.

Irma was saying something and Quert, too, but Cliff focused on the six Sil who jumped out of the magcars. They called short crisp orders to each other and reached into their workbelts. Going for weapons, Cliff thought. Not guards.

The Sil ran around their cars and formed an orderly bunch, intent on Cliff’s car, shouting now. Quert gave its gravel growl and took off its web-belt. Irma gave an alarmed cry.

The only weapon we have, we’re inside.

Cliff saw what he must do. He slammed on the acceleration and shot forward. The car shook as he hit the Sil. Impact scattered them across the blunt shiny hood. Bodies struck their windshield and rolled up it, tumbling over the roof—dull thumps—and Cliff kept his foot on the accelerator until just before they hit the forward car.

They slammed in hard and the magnetic bumper pushed them back, lessening the impact. Their magcar’s hood crumpled. Alarms blared an odd hooting call in Cliff’s ears. Quert cried out in surprise and Irma went silent.

“Okay?” Cliff said, surprised at how mildly he said it. “Irma? Quert?”

“O-okay,” Irma said. Coughed, gasped. Aybe said, “What the—?”

Quert caught Cliff’s eye and gave the assent signal. Its mouth sagged open.

He had scooped up all the Sil. Some had rolled off to the side and others over the cabin. They had all absorbed the full hard impact of the car, giving off sharp, surprised cries. He watched where they had hit the plain. None bounced back up.

They wanted to grab us, maybe kill us. No negotiation. Went for their weapons.

Some of them had gotten their odd little guns free and lay stretched out, guns in hand but arms not moving.

Cliff backed out, turning to his left so the car glided over the bodies on that side. They crunched beneath the magcar. He got ten meters behind the bodies and shifted. He moved forward very deliberately and ran over the ones sprawled on the right. Moving fast, he slewed to ride over the two in front. Each body nudged the car up, no more, but that brought the full pressure of the magcar down on them.